


Be Brave in the Dark

by shyennemacdonald



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom, Batman and Robin (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne finally acts like a father, Canon-Typical Violence, Dad Bruce Wayne, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason-Centric, Jaytim - Freeform, M/M, Reconciliation, Recovered Memories, Repressed Memories, Requited Love, Resurrection, Sex, Unrequited Love, jason todd/tim drake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyennemacdonald/pseuds/shyennemacdonald
Summary: After Tim's apparent death, The Family all struggle on their own with coming to terms with the most recent loss. But, as Jason navigates his way through the process, he becomes tormented by a familiar voice which he believes may be the key to bringing back Red Robin. Now, The Family must reconcile with each other in order to help Jason.





	1. Hark! Who goes there?

The voice came through clear as a bell. It disturbed Jason from his sleep and had him sitting erect in his bed, the cold night air that drifted in through the window cooled the beads of sweat dripping down his skin. But the only movement was the flashing neon sign from across the street which promised _Girls, Girls, Girls_. The pinks and reds shone through the gauzy white curtains and spilt across the floor. It came again, sending a chill up his spine.

He slipped out from under the security of his blankets and walked around the room. He was alone, he was certain he was alone and yet.

_Jason_

Like a dream, it came and faded too quickly. He scarcely had time to decipher the sound when it came again.

_Jason_

It was growing louder, like thunder that rolls in with a storm.

_Jason_

There was barely a heartbeat between it now.

_Jason_

Someone was screaming his name, over and over. Yet, as Jason searched the apartment, tearing apart everything trying to find the culprit, it became more apparent that he was alone. There was no rest, no break or pause. He screamed to drown out the foreign voice only to realize that nothing could silence it. Any noise he created, blaring the television, banging on pots and pans, was only supplementary to this voice.

It was barely recognizable as a man's voice. Always either too soft or too loud, a waking nightmare just out of reach. Jason felt as if he could just swipe his arm out and he would be able to touch offender. It only repeated his name, screaming for him, crying for him. It stirred memories he had tried very hard to forget; it was exactly the way his mother used to scream.  _Jason help._ Over and over until he either showed up to save the day or run far enough away until it was only a memory. Somethings never change.

He grabbed his coat and headed out the door.


	2. the splinters that you carry

The moment Jason was lost in the crowded streets of Gotham the phantasm had ceased, and the only evidence that the episode had ever occurred was a migraine that felt like a crack in his skull. He let the crowds carry him, and revelled in the anonymity. There were no clues as to what had been the cause of the earlier incident, whether it had been his mind or one of _many_ enemies. The possibility of it being a past advisory set him on edge; if true, then they knew one of his most coveted secrets, his address. Not even his most trusted allies and closest friends knew all his many hideouts. Each tucked away in the pockets of cities all around the world, each named under a different alias.

He couldn’t go back to that apartment, not if it were exposed. There were other places in Gotham for him to go, maybe he wouldn’t even stay in the city. Why should he? Business with Black Mask was over. Artemis and Bizzaro had left Gotham, chasing a lead on the bow. He could join them, but they had gone off the grid a few days ago, and he had no idea where they would be by now. There was always Hong Kong; he had some unfinished business and a few secure safe houses down there.

Before he could make any further plans of refuge, Jason had paused in the street by the sound of his name. Unlike the prior incident, this voice was familiar if not welcomed. He turned in his spot and greeted the sight of Stephanie and Cass pushing their way toward him. Cass carried, in one hand, a precariously held tray of coffee and with her other arm, she cradled a bag of takeout to her hip. Stephanie beside her held up an umbrella to protect them both from the ever-constant Gotham rain

‘What are you doing out dressed like a civie?’ Stephanie asked. She held up the umbrella higher, so Jason also had a brief shelter.

Jason looked down at the girls curiously. Based on the items Cass held, at least one of them had to live around here. He had no idea he was living near anyone else, impeaching on their territory so to speak.

‘Just enjoying the city sights,’ he gestured widely around them.

The “city sights” and all that they encompassed were, unfortunately, cops harassing a beggar while a teenaged girl got into a car with a stranger just two feet from them. The three vigilantes watched as the car faded from view and the cops ordered the beggar to move on.

‘GCPD’s finest,’ Stephanie said, turning away in disgust. ‘So how have you been?’

Jason turned back to the girls, apprehension from the question paused his answers. It was a horribly simple question that had the potential intimacy he typically avoided. The memory of recent events accumulated in his mind.

‘Keeping busy.’

‘I hear Gotham’s streets are just a little bit safer thanks a certain someone.’

‘We all have to do our part.’

‘Looks like your letting them get in too many shots,’ she gestured to the blooming bruise on the side of Jason’s jaw.

Courtesy of Artemis; he had thought Bruce took sparring too seriously until he met her. Jason had got a few good hits, but ultimately she was the winner. It was a few days old now and had begun fading into the grotesque yellow, if he was a little older he could’ve let a beard grow in to cover it. That’s what Bruce and Dick always did, but his beard still ruefully came in patches. A fact he would of course never admit to Stephanie.

‘You got to let them get in a few, or else it isn’t a fair fight, eh Cass?’

The quiet girl looked at him with piqued interest. Cass answered his question with a smile, soft and archly, remembering their first encounter. Jason had come to terms with the fact that this was the only reason he had landed hits on Cass in the bar that night.

‘How have you lovely ladies been?’

There was a waver in Stephanie’s expression. She quickly fixed it, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that no amount of training could hide. She forced an easy shrug and a small smile.

‘Keeping busy.’

Jason studied her for a moment but wrote the sudden switch in her demeanour off as the side effects of grief. 

‘Good,’ Jason nodded and looked back from where he had come. ‘It’s almost witching hour.’

He gave the thought no further formation, letting the girls figure out the conclusion on their own. He made to leave, but Stephanie spoke up as if she hadn’t even heard him.

‘You know, everyone is pretty pissed off with you.’

 _What’s new._ Jason looked down at her, and he could see that controlled anger in her eyes more clearly.

‘That so?’

The last time he had seen his “family” was when he found out about Tim. They had all been there, gathered in the cave, sorrowful silence thick until Jason came in like a storm.

It wasn’t that he was the last to know, it was a result of his self-inflicted isolation. Tim was always the one to keep him updated on the daily dramas of their clan; the rest had only a vague idea of how often the two corresponded. Ultimately, it was Kori who had ended up breaking the news to Jason.

He had gone to Tim’s apartment, a surprise visit late in the night. Hardly out of the ordinary. Jason found his old friend, intruding on the space, alone and surrounded by cardboard boxes. She had tried to explain it to him, but not even she was sure what had truly happened. Later he could recall only bits of her story, most of it had turned to white noise as she talked. Her voice, usually a source of great comfort, had been replaced by a choking panic. Then rage.

The drive to the manor was a blur. Jason’s blood boiled, burning him inside out. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. The sobs replaced with screaming then shouting but the moment he saw Bruce, silence. He was standing, dejected and defeated, in front of the already erect monument. It wasn’t the real costume, not the one Tim had been wearing. It would’ve been a mess of melted Kevlar, a heap mixed with the blood and bones of his brother.

The rest of his family were on their feet, sensing the wildness in Jason like he was a predator just freed from his cage. He advanced on Bruce, and he let him. Jason pinned him against the glass cylinder, only a few feet from his own.

 _This is on you. You son of a bitch, this is all on you_.

Bruce said nothing; his face was frozen, fraught with failure. He only stood there and took it, his eyes vacant as Jason came at him with everything he had. Dick spoke up in his place, pleading with Jason to back off.

_You’re a curse, Bruce, a goddamn curse._

Bruce watched as Dick and Kate dragged Jason away, he looked at him like he was a ghost. In a way, Jason supposed he was. A ghost, come back to haunt Bruce of every mistake the man had ever made. Alfred tried to talk Jason down, but he had lost that power along time ago.

On the streets of Gotham, raining and dark, Stephanie looked up at him.

‘You should’ve gone to the funeral,’ she said. ‘For him.’

Jason scoffed.

‘Dead people don’t care, trust me.’

‘I meant Bruce,’ Stephanie said, her carefully held face cracked and the flood of anger came pouring through. ‘You should never have said those things.’

A shift in Cass’ features suggested a protest, but she did nothing to intervene. Jason glared down at Stephanie, and he could feel the serpent tongue in his mouth poised and ready.

‘Why, does Bruce have a hard time swallowing the facts?’

Stephanie stepped back, forcing Jason back out into the rain.

‘Tim knew the risks, just like I did, just like Damian did. Just like you.’

‘Bullshit,’ Jason spat. ‘We were kids; we were all kids. After me, it should’ve ended it, but he kept going. This is on him; you know it just as well as I do.’

‘He needed Tim. He needs _us_.’

Their rising voices were gaining attention from the passerby. But shouting in the streets was hardly unique, especially in these parts of the city. You were just as likely to hear people fighting about a robbery as you were about the game, the trick was to keep your head down. Don’t pay attention and you don’t have to get involved, practically the Gotham motto.

‘He’s a grown man, Brown. He doesn’t need a fucking babysitter.’

‘He’s your family,’ Stephanie’s voice broke through the polluting noise, interrupting everyone, so they all looked to the source. Most looked away immediately, but others stood to watch, to see how it would end. ‘You can’t just walk away when it’s convenient for you.’

A spark of renewed anger snapped the remainder of Jason’s self-control. He leant in close enough to be sure that no prying ears could hear them. He took hold of Stephanie’s elbow when she tried backing away, forcing her into place and ignoring the warning look Cass was giving him.

‘You’re a fucking idiot if you think Bruce is any different from those freaks up in Arkham. He sits on his ass while the rest of us go out fighting his war—

‘We all knew what we were getting into.’ Stephanie said, but it only pushed Jason forward.

‘I was ten years old when Bruce picked me up off the streets. I would’ve done anything he asked me to. He takes advantage of us Brown, if you don’t see that you’re out of your goddamn mind.’

Stephanie tugged herself free. Jason could see that barely contained fury inside her. She had more to say, but it was nothing that could be spoken in public, where someone might overhear. She tugged on Cass’ sleeve, and the two turned back into the crowd. 

‘How many more kids need to die before you see how fucked up this whole thing is?’ He shouted out, his words followed Stephanie and Cass as they became indistinguishable from the others on the street.

The umbrella in her hand shook and wobbled above them. Cass never complained, but the contraption was useless now in Stephanie’s unsteady hands. They had no more protection from the rain.


	3. The Hour of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the beginning of a scene I've been writing and rewriting then re-rewriting, erasing altogether. I wanted very much to slow things down and really take a look at what's happening to Jason.

Jason got no sleep that night. After his run in with Stephanie, he had gone straight back to his apartment, all reasons of why he shouldn’t having been chased away by the rage he harboured inside. 

When he first got back, the eerie stillness of the scene Jason had so abruptly abandoned sent a chill up his spine. The pot’s and pan’s that acted as a defence during his desperation still sat on the counters; the stereo was halfway through a song no one had been around to listen to,  the TV was still on the news; reports of a SkyTrain crash, ten confirmed deaths with more rolling in. 

Jason turned off the television and stereo and went immediately to the shower; the night’s episode, he decided, could be written off as too much stress, between Black Mask and Bizarro; losing Tim and the fights with Bruce. But it all washed away under the gush of hot water, and that chill that the rain had set in his bones was driven away. It was also then that the voice began calling to him again. 

_ Jason _

For a second, he wondered if there were someone in the living room. The voice was so distinct and close that Jason first thought it was Dick or even Bruce. He hadn’t spoken to either since that day, because what was there left to say? The mess of it all, it was too familiar, too close to home. 

_ Jason _

He turned off the water and listened.  _ That voice _ , it tugged at something in his mind. With a towel around his waist, Jason walked out of the bathroom. 

He wandered through his apartment without much fear but found the cause for alarm when he got to the living room. Everything was the same, except the TV. The news was back on and had moved on from the SkyTrain crash to a story about a shooting. Jason could have sworn that he had turned it off. With the press of a button, the television blinked black. Jason must have turned it off. He hated background noise, why leave it on? Now doubtful, Jason went back to his bedroom. He couldn’t stop himself from agonizing over that small detail, when he was fully dressed, he went back to the living room and stood in the centre like a man lost. 

‘Get a hold of yourself, Todd,’ Jason muttered, his quiet voice breaking the thick silence. However, the sound of his voice meant to soothe the situation, only amplified the silence and added to the anxiety that twisted in his stomach. ‘You’re being dumb.’

Determined to escape the silence, Jason went to the kitchen. His time at Wayne Manor had taught him skills that would countlessly save his life, but perhaps the most valuable skill had been learning how to cook. But not just the cooking he had done to survive on his own, this wasn’t lessons in scraping the mold off bread or cooking rats over a barrel fire. The skill of cooking had given Jason, as a child, a great sense of dignity. With all the uncertainty that had come along with being a charge of Bruce’s, Alfred’s teachings offered a sense of permanency. Over a hot pan, Jason cracked an egg open. As the transparent liquid turned white, he continued making a sandwich. 

The problem with the noise of a kitchen was that it’s short-lived. Once Jason was done eating, the silence returned. Inescapable and everywhere, it seemed to fill every crevice of his apartment like a miasma. When he stood, the kitchen chair scraped harshly against the aluminium floor and sent a chill up his spine. Every small sound he made, his steps creaking the old floor, his breathing, the moaning of the drains in the walls, all seemed only to highlight the silence. Finally, when it had become unbearable, that voice returned. 

_ Jason _

He stood, frozen. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me?

At this point, only two things could be true. Either Jason had officially lost his mind, just as every psychiatrist at Arkham predicted he would, or, someone was here to kill him. Jason honestly wasn’t sure which he’d prefer.


	4. The Guilt

_A curse_. Jason’s words rang through Bruce’s head, coming back to him each time he thought he had sent them away. Was it true? After all this time, all the lives he had saved, was that all that it came down to? That he was the thing he was working so hard to prevent.

_No._

If it were true, then all of it, all the blood, the sleepless nights, his entire life, would have been for nothing.

Tim’s death would mean nothing.

Bruce stood in the cave, alone, in front of the latest monument. It was where he could be found most days. Lost in thought, of what could have been. Deep in impossible dreams based on the dangerous thought of “what if”. He hadn’t changed out of the uniform yet. Probably, Alfred predicted, to avoid further pain. As he approached Bruce he could see the blood that darkened patches of the outfit, he was getting careless again.

‘Will you require stitches, sir?’

‘No.’ He turned away from the monument, his hand in reflex going to his right ribs.

‘Any medical care?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Master Bruce,’ Alfred said, his voice sharp. ‘Sit down.’

Without further posturing, Bruce shed his armour and sat while Alfred fetched the medical kit. Bruce’s body was covered in yellowing bruises, with fresh blue ones over on the way. Most of the wounds were artificial, but others like the one on his back were concerning.

‘And what happened here?’ Alfred asked, wiping away the dried blood. Bruce winced as the disinfectant seeped its way into the wound.

‘Silken Spider.’

‘Silken Spider?’ Alfred weaved through the stitches with expertise and ease. ‘My, it seems like decades since I’ve heard that name.’

‘She came out of nowhere; I have to figure out why.’

Alfred pressed a bandage over the new stitches.

‘Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait. We haven’t heard of the spider in quite some time. Perhaps she was just making herself known.’

‘Or,’ Bruce stood up and walked to the computer. ‘The League of Assassins has something planned.’

‘I insist, sir, that you eat before throwing yourself back into another sleepless night.’

‘Alfred, I’m—

‘Fine, yes I know, you say that often. However, Bruce, I cannot help but notice that your behaviour is alarmingly similar to when Jason passed.

‘You’re barely eating, and I never see you sleep. Each night you go out you come home later and more beaten than I’ve ever seen you. I’m worried about you, Master Bruce.’

‘Don’t be. I can take care of myself.’

‘All evidence to the contrary.’

‘What do you want from me, Alfred?’ Bruce finally turned to face the man. The anger that always seemed to be boiling just below the surface these days gave way immediately to the obvious pain in Alfred’s eyes.

‘I want you to understand that no one blames you. Despite what others may have said during the dark moments of grief, this death isn’t on you.’

‘Tim was my responsibility. His death is my mistake.’

‘That may have been true for Jason, sir, but please, give Tim the honour of his decision. He died saving countless of lives. He was, to his very last moment, a hero.’

‘He was too young.’

‘They will always be too young.’

Alfred turned away from Bruce. ‘When you’re done brooding, I’ve made a roast and can heat you up a plate if you wash up.’

Bruce watched him leave the cave and disappear inside the manor. It was true that Tim died a hero. But guilt still racked at every part of his being. Not just for the world, who had been robbed of one of greatest minds they hadn’t yet gotten the pleasure to revel in. But he felt guilt for Alfred, Dick, Barbra, Jason, Stephanie and Damian, and all those who had known Tim. Guilt for losing their brother and their friend. Yes, it was Tim’s decision, but Bruce would never stop believing that it should have been him instead.


	5. Lost.

A dead man sat at a bar, the stench of stale beer and cigarettes filled the air. Around him were sad drunks, all staring into the bottom of their glasses. No one knew the man. He wasn’t a regular, or anyone you would pick out of the crowd. A few girls had batted their eyes his way, but a sneer chased them off. The only time he made a sound was to order another drink.

  
It was then the other patrons could catch a glimpse of a ghost. Dark circles under dead eyes trained to tease out all you were worth with a single glance. His mouth was a gateway that could whisper all the secrets that keep sinners up at night; there was no light, no fluffy clouds or cherub children to save you. There was no burning, no pitchforks. There was nothing, just a darkness that was endless.

  
But he didn’t turn his hard eyes on anyone. He didn’t ruin lives with the truth of death. They would all just say he was crazy anyways. Dead men are always crazy. Instead, like everyone else, he was transfixed with the bottom of his glass. Lost in memory.

  
It was soft and sweet, and always tugging at the back of Jason’s mind.

  
He had come through Tim’s window, beaten, battered and looking for refuge.

  
Jason had shown up as dawn broke through a seemingly endless night. Tim, who had a bad habit of going through life without sleep, was still up. He asked no questions when Jason stumbled through, he didn’t even look surprised to see him. Jason didn’t say a word; instead, he went straight to the kitchen.

  
Tim followed him and watched as he rummaged through the fridge. He pulled out beer that had been left over from his last visit. Jason opened the bottle but didn’t take a drink. Instead, he stood, transfixed by the bright colours of the label.

  
Tim watched his shaking hands and the blood that trickled down his arm and dripped onto the floor.

  
‘I had no choice,’ Jason finally spoke.

  
He repeated the words as if he were trying to convince God. ‘I had no choice.’

  
‘I know.’

  
Tim took the bottle from Jason before he dropped it. It left both their hands slick and red.

  
‘You’re losing too much.’

  
Jason shook his head but couldn’t feel the injury. His heart was still beating too loudly, the shock of it all blocked anything he could feel out.

  
But he didn’t make a protest when Tim pulled Jason’s jacket off to expose the front of his shoulder. A gash, dripping gore and caked in dry blood.

  
The blow was an act of self-defense, Tim realized that if it were an attack, the wound would have been cleaner.

  
‘You need stitches.’

  
He guided Jason into the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet. With a pair of medical scissors, he stripped off Jason’s shirt. Tim crumpled it into a small heap and tossed it to the corner of the bathroom, grime-streaked sterile white tiles.

  
‘They would have killed him,’ Jason said.

  
‘I know.’

  
He was quieter that time, and instead busied himself with cleaning a long scratch that marred Jason’s chest. Tim had seen. Everyone had seen.

  
The terror in Roy Harper's face, tied to the chair. Jason had crashed through the ceiling like the Delta Force. The gunshots that pierced through the cries of Roy begging Jason to stop.

  
The screams of those put down like dogs that bite little girls.

  
‘I’m not a monster.’

  
Betraying tears spilled from Jason’s eyes and dripped onto the back of Tim’s hands.

  
‘Stop,’ he said, his voice as soft as the parent’s who sooth children out of nightmares. ‘You’re okay.’

  
Jason had no words. He felt, in his most honest of places, that he had done the right thing. He had saved Roy, his best friend, and what else mattered?

  
‘Everything is going to be alright.’

  
Tim had promised this.

  
His eyes were so earnest when Jason had looked up that, at that moment, Jason had truly believed it. He could still feel Tim’s steady breath on his neck, coming out in a huff when he put the needle through.

  
Eyebrows pulled tight in unbreakable concentration as he weaved through the stitches with precision. He could still hear Tim’s whispered words in his ear trying to calm him down.

  
He could still feel the sudden pressure of Tim’s lips on his. It was a kiss that was desperate, hungry and wanting, but full of terror of rejection. Jason’s heart had been racing loud like thunder in his ears. It was painful and rough with rushed hands, exploring without learning. Pulling Tim onto his lap, he had fit so perfectly. They had fit together so perfectly.

  
A moan, soft and sweet, that set Jason’s world on fire.

  
‘Are you getting another?’

  
Jason looked up at the bartender. He looked around the bar and all the patrons that sat like statues on their stools.

  
‘No,’ his voice was strange and hoarse.

  
As Jason paid his bill, he could hear the bartender going through the same motions with the other patrons. Sometimes stopping and commenting on the night, or making promises to join in on a smoke break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, and don't abandon this story. It's very difficult to write, as there are lots of things to consider. I feel like I'm going crazy because I have a spiderweb diagram of the plot, but it's a work-in-progress. Summer break is starting in a week, so without school to focus on I'll throw myself into this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An update on this story.

Hi, if you're reading this boy oh boy you've waited a long time. I'm not even going to apologize at this point, but I will explain. Depression. More specifically, I originally started writing this story when I was going into what I thought was going to be a minor depressive episode. I was very, very, very, very wrong. 

About the minor part, not the depressive episode. Writing recreationally--outside of work--was the first thing to go, then I stopped doing things like drawing or reading comics. I feel like I've just been coming home from work and sitting not doing anything for two years now. But in light of 2018=mental wellbeing, I'm going back to things I love and things that keep me productive. so HERE I AM IM BACK BEOTCHS!!!!! AND IM HERE TO COMPLETE THIS STORY.

Obviously, a lot has changed in regards to Tim Drake (who else is STOKED about Saviour?) So OBVIOUSLY I'm going to have to incorporate that but where there's a will there's a way. 

Btw. My prediction for how this Saviour business is going to go is that Tim is going to go work with Jason. Doesnt it make sense? who else knows that fury after being presumed dead? 

Okay, I'm gonna take a few days to replot this story (and find it on my computer) But I'm giving myself a deadline of THIS sunday (January 14, 2018). If it's not posted presume I'm back on my bullshit. But you this time feels different, I feel....awake if that makes any sense to y'all. 

Alright thats enough of that. Thank you if you're coming back to me! Thank you if you're reading this for the first time! Thank you for listening! 

<3 <3 <3


	7. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason, desperate, goes to Barbara for help.

       Burnley, Gotham, it was a side of the city Jason rarely bothered to see. Brownstone apartments, windows left unlocked, kids playing in the street. A whole other world tucked inside Gotham, like a secret that’s been kept too well.

A place like this never existed in Jason’s childhood; his Gotham made for tough skin that was necessary for survival. But, there was something to be said for kids not worrying about who was lurking around the corner.

It was all a part of Bruce’s “Urban Renewal Action Plan,” U-RAP for short. Build better, safer homes, that the lower class will never be able to afford.

Jason tipped his head back and watched the sky. It was a mix of blues and whites and greys, a wind from the north had been pushing dark clouds in. Slowly they had blocked out the dawning sun. Now, it was a matter of waiting for the rain that the dark clouds threateningly held above the city.

       ‘Jason?’

He jumped at the sound of his name. Jason looked up to find Barbara standing in front of him.

       ‘How’ve you been?’ Jason pushed himself off the step and held out his hand.

She took it gingerly, shooting a glance at the duffle bag by his feet.

His text had come a few hours earlier, ‘ _meet you at yours’_ was all it had said.

       ‘Are you okay?’ She asked.

Jason stared at her for a moment. She took this chance to take in his appearance. Unwashed hair, wrinkled clothes, and bruised eyes.

      ‘Not really,’ he said, letting her hand fall from his grasp.

Barbara tipped her head upward. The clouds were breaking open, letting a few warning drops of rainfall.

      ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’

The apartment's interior was an overwhelmance of red velvet and dark stained wood. A style (which anyone would comfortably describe as aged and clichéd romance) found easy in Old Gotham. The disturbance of the twos weight left the stairs sighing and creaking. The protest stopped when Barbara found her door. _303_ , it was labeled in brass numbers.

She slid her key into the lock; her hand hovered where it should have turned.

       ‘This isn’t one of those times where I let you in, you go crazy, give a speech about how you died, and then try to kill me, is it?’

Jason readjusted the bag’s strap on his shoulder.

       ‘I never tried to kill you.’

       ‘No, not me specifically,’ Barbara agreed. ‘But, you get what I’m saying. I’m only asking because you seem a little,’ she paused, searching for the right word.

Jason’s eyes flitted from her still hand then back to her face.

       ‘Unhinged,’ she finally said.

       ‘Then consider it your civic duty to keep me off the streets,’ he urged her on with a nod.

With apparent moral difficulty, Barbara opened her door.

…

 

       When Jason stepped into the apartment, he was arrested by the normalcy of Barbara’s home.

       ‘What were you expecting?’ she asked.

Barbara joined him in the survey, trying to see herself through someone else’s eyes.

The apartment consisted of three principal rooms. Two of which, the living-room and kitchen, were separated merely by the change in flooring. A soft grey carpet that gave way to dark paneled wood.

The third room, her bedroom, could only be accessed through a door from the kitchen. In it possessed the sole washroom. It had occurred to Barbara when buying the apartment, that it was the very essence of solidarity.

A large window in the living-room led to a fire-escape, which Barbara or any other caped crusader would use when the front door wasn’t an option. It was perfect for any vigilante trying to keep up a secret identity; a part of her had to wonder if the architect had designed the building with people like her in mind.

The living-room was full of artificial plants and textbooks from school. A television hung from the wall opposite of a large leather couch, showing the news on mute.

Her laptop, from which she could conduct a significant portion of her investigations, sat sleeping on her couch.

       ‘You’ve read _1984_ , right?’

She glared back at him, he had shirked his coat but left his boots on. The duffle bag he had been towing around sat beside the door.  

Jason followed Barbara into her kitchen, and she immediately veered toward a coffee maker. As she shoveled grounds into a filter, Jason perched himself on the bar stool. She didn’t ask him any questions, and he didn’t offer any explanations. Barbara buzzed around the kitchen, and Jason sat and watched.

The only time either spoke was when Jason poured cream into his coffee.

       ‘It’s practically white,’ she said, but he had just shrugged.

After that, Barbara had disappeared into her bedroom. When she emerged, she was freshly showered and changed into pajamas.

       ‘You can take a shower if you want,’ she said heading toward the fridge.

       ‘Or did you want to eat first?’ she pulled out a box of pizza.

       ‘I got it yesterday. Which, in pizza terms, that means it’s pretty much fresh.’

       ‘But you can have whatever you want from the fridge, or you can just have a shower.’

Barbara shut the fridge and turned to him.

       ‘Or just ignore me, that’s cool too.’

She waited for Jason to look up and roll his eyes, at the very least give his usual long-suffering sigh.

Instead, he sat like a statue in the exact place she had left him. The coffee she had poured him was still cradled in both hands, seemingly untouched. He just stared into the mug, as if he were transfixed by its swirling contents.

       ‘Jason?’

Barbara set down the pizza box and took a hesitant step toward him.

       ‘Did you want to shower?’ she asked again, watching his vacant features.

       ‘Jason?’ Barbara placed a light touch on his elbow.

He startled, and as he did, the coffee spilled on his front.

       ‘Jesus,’ Jason cursed and let the mug slip from his grasp.

It shattered, Barbara jumped into the air, scarcely avoiding the shards.

       ‘You scared me,’ he accused, looking around at the sudden carnage.

       ‘I said your name like twelve times,’ Barbara carefully stepped around the scattered shards.

       ‘I didn’t hear you.’

Barbara nodded. ‘Tinnitus?’

       ‘What?’

       ‘You have tinnitus too, right?’

      ‘Oh,’ Jason wiggled a finger in his ear. ‘Yeah, I guess it’s nasty today.’

Barbara grabbed a broom and dustpan from a cupboard.

       ‘Go for a shower,’ she said. ‘I’ll clean this up.’

…

 

       It was on Barbara’s couch, showered and sunken into the oversized cushions, that Jason finally explained his presence.

       ‘I don’t have any evidence,’ he paused.

Once he said it, he knew she would think he was insane.

       ‘But I think someone is following me.’

       ‘Did they follow you here?’

       ‘No.’

Barbara walked to the window. She pulled the curtains back and looked down at the street below. By now, a quarter past seven, early risers were starting their day. She watched joggers and tired mothers with eager children weave through each other.

A black Sedan pulled up that almost had her diving away from the window until a man with a briefcase came running down the street. He quickly slid in, and the car drove away.

Jason had taken a convoluted route to Barbara’s apartment and even had bought new clothes from a department store. His old ones, along with his beloved leather jacket, had been left in a Walmart bathroom.

In his duffel bag, also a new purchase, where only the bare essentials for survival. A backup domino mask and his ‘hood.’ Money and aliases, his guns and ammo. Anything else he believed he could just buy.

        ‘You said you don’t have evidence?’ Barbara settled onto the arm of the lazy chair.

       ‘Nothing concrete,’ Jason said.

Hesitation passed over his face. Barbara knew he was choosing his words as carefully as he could. Deciding which part of the story he wanted you to hear; it was something Bruce always did.   

       ‘It was a few days ago when I was in one of my safe-houses.’

       ‘What happened?’

        ‘Someone was talking to me. I don’t know who, I didn’t see anybody. But, I _know_ someone was there.’

Barbara stared at Jason for what felt like, to him, a long time.

        ‘I sound insane,’ he concluded for her.

        ‘Kind of,’ Barbara said. ‘But why do you think someone is following you?’

        ‘I went to every safe-house I have in Gotham. For two days I’ve been running, everywhere I go the same thing happens.’

        ‘And you’re alone every time?’

       ‘Yes, and it’s always in a safe-house.’

       ‘Okay,’ Barbara cracked her fingers and grabbed her computer.

       ‘Day or night?’

       ‘Both, the first time it happened it was around midnight.’

Barbara nodded, the keyboard clacked under her fingers.

      ‘Did you recognize the voice?’

Jason thought for a moment. There had been a few instances where the phantom had felt familiar, but not so much that Jason had been able to place a name.

There were other times where the voice barely sounded human. He told Barbara this, and both hypothesized that it must be someone already acquainted with Jason.

       ‘Didn’t you take over Black Mask’s gang?’ Barbara asked. ‘Maybe he’s getting revenge.’

He shook his head, what he had left out of his report was that Black Mask was permanently indisposed. Not dead, but certainly unable to ever make a motor function long enough to pull off something this intricate.

       ‘But maybe you’re on to something,’ he said.

The re-emergence of Red Hood had put a strain on Gotham’s already over-encumbered underworld. And Jason taking over Black Mask’s gang was making everyone nervous. Nobody felt safe, and it was no secret that there were a few hits out for him.

       ‘It’s not like your identity is a coveted secret,’ Barbara said, suggesting that maybe one of those still clinging to their fidelity for Black Mask had come after Jason.

       ‘Trust me, not a whole lot of Black Mask’s followers were willing participants.’

       ‘Well, it doesn’t match anyone else’s M.O. I don’t think we should rule them out.’

      ‘That’s not true,’ Jason said. ‘It could be the Joker.’  

They both fell silent; he regretted saying it out loud. A persistent fear of what the Joker could do next had been instilled in Barbara and Jason more than anyone else. But he forced the thought out of his mind. It had been a long time since the Joker came after either of them.

       ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘What’s our game plan?’

       ‘I think I’ll swing by your safehouses, do a sweep for any cameras or audio recordings.’

Jason found a piece of paper and a pen.

       ‘Here,’ he said, handing her the paper after scribbling on it.

Only one address was listed, Barbara recognized the street name from being a block away from the GCPD’s 9th precinct.

       ‘Jason,’ Barbara handed him back the paper. ‘I need more than this.’

       ‘No.’

That was where he drew the line. Barbara could feel it, like running straight into a brick wall.

His blunt answer had shocked her, and she wondered if there was anyone he truly depended on.

      ‘You think now is the best time to practice equivocation?’

      ‘If someone starts poking around all my safehouses whoever is following me will know something is up.’

      ‘Fine,’ her laptop shut with a snap. ‘We’ll see what’s at this one, and then we’ll go from there.’

…

       Barbara called her dad. They would have to make this seem as coincidental as possible if someone were watching them. They would meet for coffee after his shift, after which Barbara would suggest a walk. It would be when they near the apartment that her dad would have to cause some commotion, maybe a bomb threat to make sure the building was evacuated. This was deemed a minor detail to be made out later.

       ‘That gives us ten hours,’ she said. ‘I’m going to get some sleep. You should too.’

The couch had been made up for him, but while Barbara slept in her room, Jason took the chance to do his own investigating of sorts. He had tried in earnest to find a lead in his case, but without evidence it was fruitless. That’s how he ended up on Barbara’s floor, thumbing through her photo albums. These weren’t the ones on display that aided her alias, filled with her school friends and supposed road trips.

These albums, tucked into the false bottom of her coffee table, were the real her. There were suits he recognized, people he had never worked with but knew of nonetheless. Blue Beetle, once a renowned scientist but now a kid working alongside Kori and Damian, standing between Beast Boy and one of Flash’s sidekicks.

Zatana and the Martian girl, Birds of Prey, Cassie, and Steph. Conner Kent and Tim Drake out of costume and laughing over a dinner table. He lingered on this one, memorizing the laughter lines and a broad smile that distorted Tim’s face.

There were Bruce and Dick in the training room, with dazzling looks perfected for cameras.

He had even found himself, a scrawny little thing, standing outside the Titans tower. It was his first mission with them that had lasted for a total of one week before Bruce pulled him out. _Fails to work with others_ was on his official termination notice. Along with _requires anger-management_ and _tendency for reckless endangerment_. Which, in his opinion, was hardly fair.

There were more photos of Dick than he could count, through which Jason could chronologize Barbara’s and his tumultuous relationship. He was surprised that she had any photos at all. She was more like Bruce than she cared to admit, especially in the paranoid aspect.

When he finally closed the albums, he was left with a hollow feeling. With this life, a vigilante, there were things you had to forfeit. Jason had always thought things like friends, family, love and a 401k were part of the sacrifice.

If he’d known everyone else was clinging to these inherent aspects deemed essential to the human experience, maybe he would have worked harder to as well.

Jason had certainly had friends, Kori was still one of them. Even if Roy wasn’t any longer, he knew at one point they had been like brothers. A family was a fickle thing, he had spent his career as Robin desperate to be acknowledged as Bruce’s son, but that was more than what his mentor was willing to give. Now he supposed it was something he still craved, why else did he follow Batman’s “laws.”

As for love, could he have had it? Jason thought back to his nights with Tim. Neither had ever defined what was between them, never out loud at least. Once Jason had questioned it, Tim had a logical enough explanation that he didn’t push it further.

 _Look at what we do,_ _we could die tomorrow._ Tim had explained this without much care, just going through the necessary strokes to get to the primary goal. _There’s no point in questioning it. It’s not forever._

This hurt now when Jason thought of it alone, but at the time it was enough. Between the kisses and tearing off their costumes, it was all he’d needed to hear.

After they had ended whatever it was between them Tim had easily gone back to Stephanie, so maybe it wasn’t love. Jason put the albums back into the secret drawer.

Had Tim ever told Stephanie about him and Jason? Or was he too ashamed to say it out loud? _By the way lover, you know the whack-job who used to want to kill us all? We hooked-up_. _But don’t worry, it was just for fun_.

No. That couldn’t have been all they were. For all they had told each other, for all the things they shared, there had to be something more. But how would he have known if it was love anyhow? It seemed stupid to try and figure it out post-mortem.

Jason looked at the clock. It was half-past ten, how long had he been sitting there thinking about Tim? Long enough, he decided. Jason stretched out the stiffness in his limbs and looked for something to distract himself with.

…

       ‘What are you doing?’ Barbara stood at the entry-way of the kitchen.

While she had been sleeping Jason had taken it upon himself to clean. It had started with just fluffing the pillows and folding the blankets, but all self-control went out the window when he noticed a dust bunny under the couch.

He looked up from the sink he was scrubbing. ‘No offense, Babs, but you should hire a maid or something.’

       ‘Why, Jason,’ she stepped carefully on the freshly washed floor. ‘Who needs a maid when I’ve got a freak like you?’

       ‘Just for that, I’m not cleaning out your fridge.’

       ‘Good, please don’t,’ she looked into the living room. ‘Did you even try to sleep?’

       ‘How could I when I’m sitting in filth?’

       ‘It wasn’t dirty,’ she stopped herself, assessing his work. ‘But thank you.’

      ‘Are you going to the safe-house now?’ she was dressed up in civie clothes, but he suspected underneath the buttoned-up shirt and jeans was her real outfit.

      ‘Yes,’ she scraped her hair back into a pony-tail. ‘And you are going to stay here and sleep. Seriously, Jason at this point it’s a health hazard.’

She was right, of course. At this point he couldn’t even stand upright without support.

      ‘You’re safe here,’ she had assured him before heading out the door. ‘Trust me.’

Once he was settled on the couch it didn’t take long to slip into a deep, impenetrable sleep.

Barbara didn’t return to the apartment until after midnight. She hadn’t meant to stay out so late, all the while she was out a natural concern for Jason plagued her thoughts. But a run-in with Firefly had kept her from coming back to check on him, when she did return she was thankful to see him undisturbed on the couch.

There were moments when she could catch a glimpse of the old Jason, usually when he was laughing, sometimes during a fight. But it amazed her to see how young he still looked when he slept, when all the stress of the world slipped away from his face.

She snuck off to her bedroom, careful not to bother him any further. When he woke up she would show him everything she found. Camera’s had littered the safehouse, but there was nothing there to suggest pre-recorded audios. Tomorrow they would find out who was stalking him. Tomorrow it would all be revealed.  


	8. The Hit List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the phantom voice returns, Jason is driven over the edge. 
> 
> ***I know the rating is M but a quick lil disclaimer, this chapter includes violence and an unrelated sex-scene between Jason and Tim.

Jason looked around and felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. But how had he gotten here? He tried to recall, but his mind felt hazy. Wherever it was, hadn’t Barbara been there with him? He couldn’t say for sure, but that didn’t matter, he was alone now.

This room, he had been here before. He knew he had. The room was large with a concrete floor, wall, and ceiling. Everything was grey, save the red door at the furthest end. A glowing exit sign hung overtop of it, at least he knew where to go.

He made to move but stumbled over painfully into the floor. He looked down at his legs and screamed in horror. Bone ripped through his skin and dragged the meat of his body out with it. His legs were crumbled and unmovable.

He looked back to the door, it seemed further now, but he couldn’t stay here, he would have to crawl. He rolled back onto his stomach and began to drag his body across the floor.

He stopped, he couldn’t breathe. Something was choking him, he coughed hard, and a clot of blood fell from his mouth. A growing pain spread across his chest. He dragged a hand over his ribs and felt where they had snapped. If his lung was punctured, there wasn’t much time left. The door looked even further away now.

He took a deep, excruciating breath and continued his mission. Just get to the door. Just get to the door.

It swung open, briefly washing the grey room in light before turning shut again. Jason froze. He tried to look up but could barely move his neck.

I’m dying, he thought as he slowly soaked in a pool of his blood, I’m going to die again.

He could hear footsteps approaching. Each step was taken slowly and with deliberation. All he could see were grime covered combat boots slowly getting closer and closer.

                ‘Leaving so soon?’ that voice.

A boot swung back then came into hard contact with his face, sending a new shock of pain.

_Jason_

He opened his eyes. It was dark, but with the moonlight shining through the window he could make out his surroundings. Barbara’s apartment. He was safe, just like she had promised.

                ‘Just a dream, Todd.’ He whispered into the dark. He sat up and fumbled for his phone, a quarter past three.

He stumbled up and made his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

_Jason_

He threw himself into the silence, refusing to acknowledge the growing dread that accompanied the everlasting voice.

_Jason_

He went back to the living room, convinced if he laid back down sleep would come, and that voice would leave.

_Jason_

Closer now, as if it were right in front of him. He looked up and fell backward. A corporeal thing, inhuman in its appearance, lurched forward. Jason recovered quickly and groped for his duffle bag. As it slowly neared him, he felt the cold metal of his handgun and pulled it out. Its jaw fell open and an ungodly sound poured out.

_Jason_

                ‘Barbara,’ what if it had killed her. He was back on his feet. ‘Barbara.’

The creature that stood before Jason was unlike anything he had ever seen before. When it stretched its spine fully erect, the being was several feet taller. Its movements were stagnated as if it had little control over its self.

Its body was a grotesque makeup of what seemed to be charred flesh barely clinging to its frame. Its limbs, impossibly long, looked broken and dislocated from the body. With great effort, the thing swiped forward with one of its arms. The hands were more like talons, Jason barely dodged the sharp claw.

                ‘So, you’re the one who’s been whispering sweet nothings into my ear,’ Jason said. It stumbled forward, and its jaw opened again.

_Jason_

                ‘Jason?’ Barbara was running out to the living room. ‘Put the gun down.’

_Jason_

                ‘Jason,’ she put a hand on his shoulder. ‘There’s nothing there.’

_Jason_

                ‘Get back,’ he shouted. His voice was as hard as a crack of thunder and held the same warning of danger.

Barbara backed away slowly. ‘Jason, you’re scaring me.’

He repositioned the gun, his finger ready on the trigger.

_Jason_

                ‘Jason, I need you to put the gun down.’

He couldn’t hear her. His world became filled with the creature screeching his name. This was the thing that had been stalking him, and he led it here, to Barbara. But it wouldn’t hurt her, not if Jason stood between them.

It swiped out again, this time the talons broke the skin on his chest, marring it with three long scratches. He cried out in pain, clutching the wound. He felt Barbara pulling him back, he looked up, and the thing recovered its balance.

Three shots rang out. One straight through the head, the second (if this thing was biologically similar to a human) in the heart and the final in its abdomen.

It was gone, as quickly as blowing out a candle the thing had vanished. The only thing he could see now was the smoke from his gun.

A shot of electricity seized Jason, he dropped his gun as his body began to convulse. With a final cry of pain, Jason unceremoniously slumped down to the ground. 

                ‘Oh my god,’ Barbara dropped her taser and rolled him onto his back. ‘Please don’t hate me.’

…

                ‘We should have a safe-word.’

                ‘How about stop?’

                ‘I'm serious.’

Tim backed up, assessing his handiwork.

                ‘Batman?’

                ‘Fine, but if he crashes through the window to save the day, it’s on you.’

                ‘I’ll take full responsibility.’

Tim grabbed another tie, securing Jason’s other hand to the bedpost. ‘Speaking of, he mentioned you the other day.’

                ‘Oh?’ Jason watched as he methodically chose another tie.

                ‘He said you took a case in Gotham?’

Tim positioned Jason’s left leg, so it spread out. ‘Yeah, but it’s all under-wraps right now. Very covert.’

                ‘Right. Try that,’ Jason tugged his leg back and felt the knot go tight enough to pinch his skin.

                ‘Were you a boy scout? I won’t make fun of you if you say yes.’

Tim smirked and began to work on the right leg. 

                ‘So how long do you think you’ll be in Gotham for?’

                ‘A while, I got a new place.’

                ‘Done. Do I get to visit?’

Jason was spread out on the bed, a perfect scene Tim wished he could capture and have forever.

                ‘If you agree to help set up my computer. It’s good.’

                ‘I’m sure I could,’ Tim climbed onto Jason, straddling his waist. ‘Alright, Todd, enough chit-chat. Let’s get to business.’

Jason bucked his waist and Tim fell forward, their lips collided in a hungry kiss. Jason strained his neck trying to get closer to the other as he slowly backed away.

Tim trailed his lips downward, spending time on Jason’s chest until he let out a soft sound of enjoyment. He planted small kisses along the line of curled hair that led him downward. He gave Jason’s inner thighs all the reverence they deserved, he nuzzled his nose through the tuff of hair that grew at the base of his now hard cock.

Tim ran his tongue up to the tip. He paused for a second, relishing the fact that it was him that was making Jason quiver. He took Jason entirely into his mouth, his tongue hard at work while his hands continued the exploration.

A low, protesting whine escaped Jason when Tim took his mouth away.

                ‘What are you doing?’ Tim hopped off the bed and began rummaging through the nightstand.

He pulled out a bottle and quickly resituated himself. ‘Just relax,’ he said, squeezing lube onto his fingers.

He took Jason back into his mouth, hungrily sucking as his fingers began working on his hole. Jason slammed his head back into the pillow, letting out a moan.

It was when Tim could slide his second finger in that Jason got worked up. He was usually the paragon of self-control in such situations, but as it were that day he couldn’t quiet the moans that kept escaping him.

He began to work his hips in time with the fingers that were sliding in and out. Tim adjusted himself in accordance, his head bobbing to the same rhythm.

Tim’s fingers hit the right spot, and Jason’s hips bucked up, thrusting himself further into Tim.

He let out a strangled warning, but Tim kept going. With one more cry of pleasure, Jason filled Tim’s mouth. He swallowed the load easily, and Jason flopped back down onto the bed.

Tim waited for Jason to come down, he watched his face and felt his heart skip when he stared back. Jason’s blue eyes were wide and wanting. His lips, perfectly red as rubies, were parted and panting, gaped open with shock over the sudden loss of touch.

Tim’s heart surged with feelings he still didn’t know how to address. The immensity of it all blossomed in his chest in a way that felt like pain.

                ‘Tim—

He cut Jason off with a kiss, deeper than before, more yearning yet somehow soft.

…

                ‘I was beginning to think you would never wake.’

Jason stared up at the roof. ‘If you put me into a coma I promise I won’t tell.’

                ‘How are you feeling?’

He looked down at the straps that confined him. ‘Like an old man has tied me to a bed. Can you undo these?’

Alfred rose from his chair and unbuckled the restraints. ‘You were having seizures,’ he explained.

                ‘Sounds bad. What’s wrong with me?’

He began unhooking Jason from the monitor. ‘As far as my medical expertise go, nothing but lack of sleep.’

                ‘The seizures?’

                ‘You were tasered, there very well could have been after effects?’

Jason sat up, rubbing his wrists. ‘Who tasered me?’

                ‘Ms. Gordon, apparently you were shooting at shadows.’

Memories of Barbara’s apartment flooded Jason. That creature, he’d killed it. But Barbara didn’t see?

                ‘How long have I been out?’

Alfred looked down at a journal that sat open on the nightstand. ‘Two days.’

                ‘Can you hand me my phone?’

He obliged. ‘Who are you calling?’

                ‘An Uber, I’m leaving.’

The phone was snatched from Jason’s grasp and set out of reach. ‘I’ve been put under the strictest orders to keep you in the manor until Master Bruce returns.’

                ‘I’m not screwing around. Give me the phone,’ Jason held out his hand expectantly.

                ‘My, I forgot how grouchy you are when you first wake. I’m sorry Master Jason, but orders are orders.’

Alfred matched Jason’s glare with a stern gaze. There was no winning here.

                ‘Fine. Can I at least get some damn food?’

Jason was given back his phone.

                ‘I trust you remember where the kitchen is?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, I remember.’

                ‘Then you know where to get food.’

Alfred left the infirmary, trusting the young man to his word. Jason laid back down, looking through his phone. Artemis had messaged him; she and Biz were going to Egypt. For whatever reason, it couldn’t be helped now.

_Call me_ was all he sent in return.

He scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he wanted. He couldn’t believe she’d called Bruce.

_Congratulations, Gordon. You’re #1 on my hit list._


	9. ANOTHER UPDATE

Hi~yo! Have you forgotten me? I haven’t forgotten you! I’m going to start working on the next chapter tomorrow so expect it soon! 

An update on me personally (I keep you posted partially because it makes me feel less lonely and partially because I hope it makes others feel less lonely): I’ve dropped out of Uni! For the time being anyhow. I’m just tired of telling myself I can be happy when I’m thirty. I want to be happy NOW. So yeah, that’s what’s been going on. Also my computer is fried. Does anyone else have an HP? That’s what I have but I hate it and I’ve had nothing but bad experiences.

Okay, talk soon!!!! By that I mean posting soon! Xoxoxoxoxoxo


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